


From the Water to the Shore

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Frottage, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: “What the hell are you wearing?”Holden, who had just emerged from the bathroom of their cramped motel lodgings, glanced down at himself and then back up at Bill with a frown.“Swim trunks.”“Those arenotswim trunks,” Bill protested, with a pointed nod to the thin scrap of bright teal fabric clinging to Holden’s hips. “I’ve seen lingerie that offers more coverage.”
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	From the Water to the Shore

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a PWP mood, so here is some porn!
> 
> Not beta read, all mistakes are mine. Title from Brian Hyland’s ‘Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini.’

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Holden, who had just emerged from the bathroom of their cramped motel lodgings, glanced down at himself and then back up at Bill with a frown.

“Swim trunks.”

“Those are _not_ swim trunks,” Bill protested, with a pointed nod to the thin scrap of bright teal fabric clinging to Holden’s hips. “I’ve seen lingerie that offers more coverage.”

The elastic waistband rode a few inches below Holden’s navel, while the hem of each leg was tucked neatly at the seam of either thigh, like a pair of briefs. There was a fake belt along the waistband, slotted through a couple of decorative beltloops and detailed with a little white button and twin rows of piping in the same color. The whole ensemble left very little to the imagination.

Holden shook his head, amused, and pawed through his suitcase where it was laying open on the desk until he unearthed a slightly rumpled undershirt. “Take it up with the Sears catalogue,” he said, shaking the shirt out and shrugging it on.

He turned and ducked back into the bathroom, the swell of his ass against the nylon almost obscene. He reappeared with one of the scrubby white towels, rough with wear and frequent bleachings, slung around his shoulders.

“Since when do you swim, anyway?” Bill asked.

“Since regular exercise is supposed to reduce stress.”

Bill cut him a look, well aware of the many coping mechanisms that Holden had adopted over the years to manage his panic disorder. “I thought that was what all the running was for.”

“It is. I prefer jogging, but you know how hard it can be to find a safe route when we’re on the road like this. Wendy suggested swimming as an alternative, since pretty much every motel we visit has a pool.”

Bill snorted. “You calling that little puddle out there a pool?”

“I didn’t say they had _nice_ pools,” Holden retorted. He quirked his eyebrows, eager and sweet. “You want to come?”

“I’m good.” Bill settled back against the headboard, sparing a glance for the clock on the nightstand. “You do know we’re meeting Detective Barrigan at nine o’clock?”

“It’s barely gone seven,” Holden dismissed. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at Bill over his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right.” Holden tugged the door open, letting a long bar of daylight slip through to the soak the carpeting and bleed up the edge of the mattress. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“That gonna leave you enough time to primp?”

Holden rolled his eyes over a smirk and disappeared out into the dawn, barefoot and limned in milky morning sunshine.

Bill closed his eyes and dozed for another few minutes, sitting halfway up in bed, then roused himself with a grunt and scrubbed a hand over his face. He swung his legs over the side and stretched his arms out over his head, sighing with relief when his back popped. The structural integrity of the mattresses here at the Sunway Motel left something to be desired, but that was hardly surprising.

He and Holden had only just managed to squeak this consultation into their schedule by virtue of some creative timekeeping, and abundant assurances to Ted that it wouldn’t eat into the yearly budget, which meant sleeping rougher than they’d had to since Road School more than half a decade ago. With any luck, the insights they hoped to provide into a series of suspicious drownings in the nearby Stanislaus River would be well worth a little overnight joint pain.

Bill pushed to his feet amidst a chorus of groaning springs and lumbered toward the bathroom, scratching at his belly under his shirt. The light overhead hummed to life with a flickering buzz when he hit the switch, flooding the poky little room with white fluorescence so bright it stung. Bill’s toothbrush was nestled in a clear plastic cup next to Holden’s, same as they were back at home, which was a recent delight that Bill was still getting used to. 

He ducked to take a tepid drink from the faucet before he wet the bristles, squeezed out some toothpaste, and went to work. When he was finished, he meandered over to yank the shower curtain back, compressing its kitschy floral pattern into an unintelligible accordion of garish sunset hues, and fiddled with the tap for a moment. The water started to run hot with gratifying immediacy, kicking up sheets of steam where it hit the cool ceramic, and Bill stood back to strip out of his makeshift pajamas.

He climbed under the spray, groaning as the steady pressure beat against his sore shoulders, and ducked his head so the water could run down through his sleep-mussed hair. He flattened his palms against the wall in front of him, leaning his weight onto his hands and basking in the heat until he’d gathered enough willpower to launch into his morning ablutions. He was in the middle of shampooing when he heard the distant thud of a door closing. 

A short second later, Holden appeared on the threshold of the bathroom, leaning against the jamb. Bill could just barely see him past the curtain. His face was flushed pink with exertion, body still glittering with water droplets and hair a mess of damp curls tufting up from his crown.

“If you flush the toilet while I’m in here, you’re taking your life into your own hands,” Bill warned, leaning back to rinse off.

Holden laughed, a sharp, open-mouthed huff, and came padding into the room on bare, no doubt filthy feet. He dropped his towel next to Bill’s cast-off nightwear and clambered unceremoniously over the side of the tub. He was still wearing that absurd scrap of a swimsuit, which clung even more tightly to his every curve and angle now that it had been thoroughly soaked.

“Scoot over,” he instructed, gaze glinting with mischief.

Bill wiped soap from his eyes and staggered a few steps back, more on reflex than at Holden’s bidding. He raised a hand to Holden’s waist, providing extra support so he didn’t slip. It would be just their luck if he managed to fall and bust his head open before they had the chance to liaise with the Stanislaus County Sheriff’s Department.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving time.”

“Christ,” Bill scowled, as Holden shuffled into his space. “You reek like chlorine.”

Holden arched a speaking eyebrow. “I was just in the pool.”

Bill stroked his thumb along Holden’s waist and brought his unoccupied hand up to curl over Holden’s hip, mirroring the motion on his other side. “And you’re cold,” Bill observed, watching a ripple of gooseflesh as it crept up Holden’s belly, toward his ribs. His nipples were hard, tight points, and there was a faint tremor in his fingers when he brushed them over Bill’s cheek.

His lashes were gathered into tawny spikes, plush mouth curling as he rasped, “I wouldn’t be, if you would quit hogging all the hot water.”

Bill rolled his eyes and stepped carefully around Holden, turning him like they were a couple of middle school students slow-dancing in a dimly lit cafeteria until his back was under the spray and his chest was pressed against Bill’s own.

“Better?”

“Much,” Holden confirmed, and tilted his head so their noses brushed. He caught Bill’s mouth in a slow, sweet kiss that tasted vaguely of spearmint from their shared toothpaste under the bitter, astringent tang of pool chemicals. Bill wrinkled his nose.

“You even _taste_ like chlorine,” he muttered, though that didn’t stop him from reaching up to grasp the hinge of Holden’s jaw and coax his mouth open. Holden made a soft, apologetic noise in the back of his throat and flattened his hands against Bill’s chest, sinking forward into the kiss. He moaned when their tongues curled together, a shudder working its way from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips.

Bill palmed at the eager curve of Holden’s spine as he arched into the contact and then reached down to tuck two fingers under the waistband of his trunks at the back. He pulled the elastic back and released it, grinning when it snapped wetly against Holden’s skin hard enough that he flinched away with a gasp.

“What the hell?” Holden asked, breathless and a little dazed, confusion sinking a shallow divot into the center of his brow.

“You deserve worse for having the gall to traipse around in these.” Bill slid his fingers under the waistband again, trailing a warm line over Holden’s chilled skin and savoring the tiny whimper that rattled up from the depths of his chest in response. “You’re lucky you didn’t get flagged for public indecency.”

Holden’s fingers twitched against Bill’s collarbone. He put his head to one side and sank his teeth into the plush cushion of his lower lip, aiming for coquettish but landing closer to smug as he sighed, “If you hate them so much, maybe you should just get rid of them.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all week,” Bill rumbled in agreement, and pushed far enough into Holden’s ridiculous shorts that he could get a nice, possessive handful of his bare ass.

Holden gasped and rocked his hips forward, cock thickening despite the fact that the front half of his suit was still saturated with frigid pool water.

Bill squeezed, hard enough to coax another shaky little whimper past Holden’s teeth, and ceded his grip on Holden’s lush behind in favor of hooking his thumb over the waistband of his swim trunks. He guided them down Holden’s thighs until his cock sprang free, pink and a little more than half hard. Bill abandoned the trunks, rolled into a wet coil just above Holden’s knees, so he could reach out and get a hand on it.

He cupped his palm over Holden’s groin, pushing his cock up against his belly, and took a shuddery breath through his nose when Holden rocked into the pressure with a moan. Between the heat of the shower and the force of his arousal, he was flushed all the way from his ears down to his sternum. His eyes were slate-dark and glossy over his plush mouth, hair falling in damp curls across his knit brow.

“Fuck, baby,” Bill sighed, and Holden’s dick twitched against his palm. “You look so good like this.”

Holden panted a laugh. “What, naked?”

“Naked,” Bill agreed, ducking his head to suck a kiss along the line of Holden’s jaw. “Horny.” He pushed the heel of his hand against Holden’s cock, providing a little extra pressure. Holden moaned and curled his hands over Bill’s shoulders, digging in and holding on. “Look at you. Just beautiful.”

Holden ducked his head, bashful, and bit back a smile. “Did you plan to sweet talk me all morning or are you gonna touch me for real at some point?”

Bill chuckled against Holden’s throat and shifted to wrap his fingers around Holden’s dick, sliding up the shaft with a slow, tight stroke. He worked Holden over until his cock was a solid bar of velvet heat against Bill’s palm, pausing at the top of his rhythm to roll his thumb over the head. Holden’s mouth went slack around a gasp as he rutted up into Bill’s grip.

“Fuck.”

Bill smirked at him. “How’s that feel? Good?”

“Good,” Holden breathed, hips rolling. “So, _so_ good.” His fingers flexed where they were pressed against Bill’s shoulders, thighs clenching as he rocked up onto his toes, chasing the circle of Bill’s hand.

“That’s it, baby.” Bill dragged the callused pad of his thumb along the underside of Holden’s cock, from tip to root and back up again. Holden gasped and shuddered, eyes fluttering shut as Bill murmured, “Just like that.” His own cock was bobbing up toward his belly, hot and hard and already leaking just from the pleasure of seeing Holden so worked up, but Bill ignored it for the moment.

He kept stroking Holden at the same lazy tempo as he slipped his other hand around the curve of Holden’s hip. He trailed his fingers over the soft, slick canvas of Holden’s skin and pressed his palm to the small of Holden’s back, urging him forward. Holden took an obedient, shuffling step, his usual sleek economy of motion rendered to gracelessness by the trunks that were still taut around his thighs. The head of his cock hit Bill’s hip and Holden moaned, “Oh, fuck, Bill.”

“There you go,” Bill praised. He gave Holden’s cock one final, affectionate squeeze and then let go, returning his hands to Holden’s waist. He guided Holden into a slow, rolling rut against the low plane of his belly and licked his lips, satisfaction sparking hot in his gut when Holden looked up through his lashes, eyes hooded and blown dark with desire. “You think you can get yourself off like this?”

The pink flush in Holden’s cheeks flared even brighter, voice trembling as he asked, “You - you want me to rub off on you?”

Bill nodded, and Holden sucked a thin, high breath past his teeth where they sank into the pulp of his lower lip. He ducked his head, staring down at the hard pink line of his cock, slipping slick and hot against Bill’s skin. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, fingers shaking as they skidded across Bill’s shoulders to curl around the back of his neck.

His mouth dropped open around a quivering sigh and he flicked a curious, heated gaze up at Bill. “What are you gonna do? While I’m - ” He cut off and shook his head, chin dipping and body curling forward as his dick slotted into the seam where Bill’s hip met his thigh.

“I’ve got a front row seat to the show,” Bill replied, giving Holden a soft, encouraging squeeze where his hands were curled over Holden’s hips. “I want to watch you come apart for me. Can you do that?”

Holden didn’t speak, but he nodded, watching himself move for another short second before a tight, pained whine slipped free from his throat and he tucked his face into the damp crook of Bill’s neck. His breath spilled in a hot wave down Bill’s collar, bee-stung lips grazing the sharp shadow of stubble just under Bill’s jaw. Every time he rocked forward, the head of Bill’s cocked bumped his abdomen — a bright flare of pleasure flooding to life and ebbing away with each sweet tilt of Holden’s hips.

Bill was content just to watch for a few long seconds, eyes skimming from the flushed slide of Holden’s cock to the quivering plane of his belly to the rhythmic clench of his plush ass. He tilted his head to press a kiss to Holden’s temple and was rewarded with a soft, pleased breath gusting hot against his throat, barely audible over the percussive rush of water coming down around them.

Bill could just make out the dark fan of Holden’s eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, the lush pink curve of his lip where it brushed Bill’s throat. His hair was falling in dark, wet curls over his forehead and he was rosy all the way down to his navel, nipples drawn into tight buds and skin glistening.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Bill praised, palming Holden’s ass. 

Holden whimpered and looped his arms around Bill’s shoulders, splaying one hand across his back and dragging the fingers of the other up through Bill’s hair to curl around the base of his skull. Holden tilted his face up, eyes half-lidded, and swayed in to capture Bill’s mouth with a clumsy kiss.

Bill groaned, licking past Holden’s teeth and hiking him up with the hand he had curled possessively over Holden’s cheek. Holden tipped up onto his toes, making a desperate, choked sound in the back of his throat, and picked up his pace. When Bill sucked at his tongue, Holden’s rhythm faltered. Bill closed his teeth over Holden’s lower lip, sharp and proprietary, and Holden’s entire body shook. He jerked his head back, just far enough to breathe, and panted a plea into Bill’s mouth, over and over again.

Bill nosed along Holden’s cheek, laying absent kisses against Holden’s soft, flushed skin as he murmured, “What do you need, baby?”

“You,” Holden moaned. He dropped his forehead to Bill’s shoulder and ground against it, sighing a stuttered little laugh. Bill could just make out the sharp white arc of his grin as he breathed, “Fuck, Bill, I want you inside me.”

“Yeah?”

Holden nodded without raising his head, biting his smile back as if overcome by a sudden spate of uncharacteristic shyness. “Yeah.”

Bill gave Holden’s ass another fond squeeze and shifted over to dip his fingers into Holden’s crack. Holden gasped when Bill skimmed across his hole, rocking into the contact. The water sluiced hot down Holden’s back, and over Bill’s fingers as he pressed against the taut ring of muscle. 

“Oh, fuck,” Holden gasped, thin and warbling. He shivered and went still as Bill worked his middle finger in up to the second knuckle, slow and careful, eased by the steaming spray. _“Oh_ yes. Yes, please.”

Bill shushed him with an absent nuzzle against his hair and ran his free hand up the length of Holden’s spine. “Keep moving, sweetheart,” he instructed, low and gentle. “I still want to see you.”

Holden whined but obeyed, rolling forward to rut against Bill’s hip and sinking back onto his finger with a thready moan. He straightened up, head lolling slightly until he and Bill were temple to temple, and settled into a steady rhythm. Bill pushed a little deeper every time Holden moved, and when the tight glide of his passage around Bill’s finger relaxed to something looser and smoother, he tucked a second in alongside the first.

He and Holden were pressed in close enough by now that Bill’s cock dragged against Holden’s abdomen in a sloppy parody of Holden’s own fevered rutting with every shift and roll. Bill sighed deep in his throat at the slick glide of skin, the occasional brush of Holden’s neatly manicured pubic hair. He waited until Holden dropped his shaking arms back down between them, hands curled against Bill’s chest, and crooked his fingers, searching out the swollen nub of Holden’s prostate.

“Oh, God,” Holden keened, scrabbling for purchase. “Right there. Right there, Bill. Right there.” He kept repeating the phrase, liberally interspersed with Bill’s name and the word ‘fuck,’ until he collapsed forward against Bill’s frame and whimpered, “I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck, Bill, I’m gonna come.”

Bill pushed in as Holden rocked back onto his fingers, hooking in deep and grinding in slow, tight circles over his sweet spot until Holden bucked sloppily against him and came with a cry, mouth open and pressing wet against Bill’s jaw at the corner. Holden kept moving for a few seconds after, heaving little punched out moans until he stalled to a quavering stop, knees just beginning to buckle underneath him.

Bill didn’t let him fall. He got one arm around Holden’s waist and pulled his other hand free, less gently than he might have preferred. Holden whined at the sudden retraction but stumbled back willingly as Bill guided him to lean against the wall, pinning him in place with a fierce, possessive kiss.

“Fuck, Holden,” Bill groaned, while the man in question melted underneath him like wax in the sun. “That was so fuckin’ hot. Do you have any idea?”

Holden didn’t answer — not that Bill had expected him to, busy as he was catching his breath — but he slid a hand up to stroke through the short, wet hairs at the nape of Bill’s neck and made a soft noise of protest when Bill leaned back far enough to get an eye between them.

Holden was still mostly hard, cock glistening and belly smeared with spend where he’d pressed in tight against Bill when he came. Bill himself was bathed in it, and he gathered some up on his fingers before taking his dick in hand and stripping it from root to crown with swift, tight strokes.

“You look so good covered in come,” he murmured, mouthing lazily at the blade of Holden’s jaw. Holden sighed a soft, pleased laugh, still wrung out from his orgasm, and tilted his head back to give Bill better access.

Bill pressed his teeth against Holden’s throat, following the tendon until he was low enough that he could suck a dark bruise into the pale canvas of Holden’s skin without it showing above his shirt collar. Holden hissed and dug his fingers in against Bill’s neck, pulling him in even closer still.

Bill obliged him, lavishing his collar with stinging kisses while he worked toward his own release. It didn’t take long, between the heat of Holden’s body and the tremble in his limbs and the sweet, overwrought sounds he kept making whenever Bill touched him. Bill pressed his palm flat against the ceramic at Holden’s back and came with a grunt, striping Holden’s belly and his thighs and the absurd little swimsuit that had kicked this whole thing off in the first place.

When Bill finally came back to himself, the whitewater rush of orgasm dimming under the metered hiss of the showerhead, he was bowed over Holden, panting into his throat while Holden trailed one hand across Bill’s shoulders and scraped the other through his hair.

“Goddamn, that was good,” Bill sighed, turning to press a kiss to Holden’s cheek.

Holden hummed his agreement and brushed around the shell of Bill’s ear. “Very good,” he corrected, nudging Bill’s chin with his knuckles and guiding him up for a proper kiss, tender and close-mouthed. 

Bill cupped a palm over Holden’s cheek, sweeping his thumb in a lazy arc that just barely skimmed the soft skin under Holden’s eye. His mouth curled with pleasure when Holden sighed into the kiss and sagged against him. When he pulled back a long second later, Holden’s eyes were still closed, lashes clumped into wet spikes, lips slack and parted. He blinked, smile spreading in a syrupy sprawl across his face, and dipped his chin to glance down the length of his body.

“You made a real mess of me,” he said, looking back up at Bill with a playful quirk of his brow.

“It’s lucky we’re already in the shower, then, isn’t it?” Bill smirked, and darted in for another swift peck.

He helped Holden out of his trunks, letting the younger man balance against his shoulders as he tugged the thoroughly saturated scrap of nylon down his legs and tossed it into the corner of the tub, where it landed with a wet plop. He ushered Holden under the spray and they scrubbed up with brisk efficiency, barring one minor detour into a series of hazy, smoldering kisses that had him rumbling against Holden’s mouth, “Save that for later.”

Bill waited patiently for Holden to hand over the bar of Ivory and soaped his chest, his belly, his groin, while Holden attempted to wrest the last of the shampoo out of the little complimentary bottle. When Bill was reasonably confident that he’d rinsed all evidence of their activities away, he left Holden behind to finish up and retreated back out into the motel room proper.

He toweled his hair dry, smoothing it into place with his hands, and dug a clean suit out of his luggage — pink shirt today, with a paisley tie that never failed to make Holden roll his eyes.

Holden emerged from the bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist just as Bill was doing up the buttons at his shirt cuffs. His hair was already combed into place and there was a bruise darkening just over his collarbone. The desire banked deep in Bill’s belly sparked when he saw it.

“I thought I burned that tie,” Holden observed, padding over to rifle through his own suitcase until he came up with a slate blue button down, a clean undershirt, and a handful of sundries.

“Must have been some other one.”

“Lord knows you’ve got enough of them that would merit the treatment,” Holden agreed, dropping his towel and stepping into a pair of tight, white briefs. He sat down on the edge of the mattress to tug on a pair of black socks and then looked over at Bill, dragging his hands up and down his thighs.

“What?” Bill asked, sliding one arm into his suit jacket.

“Come here for a second,” Holden said, beckoning with his fingers.

Bill straightened his lapels and stepped obligingly into the space between Holden’s knees, arching an eyebrow when Holden wrapped a hand around his tie. He tugged gently and tipped his face up and Bill leaned in to meet him. Fresh from the shower, Holden was redolent with the bright verbena tang of pomade and the woodsy all-spice of the aftershave he favored.

He hummed into the kiss, mouth moving softly against Bill’s until he was satisfied, and then sat back and allowed Bill just enough slack to stand up, though he didn’t relinquish his grip on Bill’s tie outright. His blue eyes were bright over the smug tilt of his grin as he announced, “When we get back here tonight, you’re fucking me for real.”

“Is that so?”

Holden nodded, slow and confident. “Mmhm.” He reached up with his free hand to pat Bill’s chest and let him go.

Bill flashed him a pointed look and tilted his head toward the bathroom. “You shimmy back into those hot pants and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I thought you hated those ‘hot pants,’” Holden hedged as he pulled his undershirt over his head, careful not to upset his neat, schoolboy coiffure.

“Yeah, well,” Bill shrugged, and cut him a small, wicked smirk. “They have their charms.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I promise I will get back to comments soon, I’ve just been in writing mode~


End file.
